<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>yours by onbeinganangel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799918">yours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel'>onbeinganangel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>kinkuary 2021 [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Foot Fetish, HP Kinkuary 2021, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shoe Kink, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:27:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>898</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers thinking about the loud and clear cadence of heels <em>that high</em> coming down the corridor. Not something he hears a lot, even at the Ministry. Definitely never at the Burrow. And truth be told, Percy doesn’t go out that often. When he does, it’s just joining the other Ministry folk down at the pub. It’s never the kind of place where shoes that sound like Pansy Parkinson’s make an appearance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>kinkuary 2021 [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>HP Kinkuary 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>yours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TIL 'foot worship' is not a tag and I'm very confused about this.<br/>Anyway. Shoe kink, foot kink and full on foot worship has been unleashed into this fic, I have no regrets. We like a good shoe in this house. <em>And so does Percy, apparently, god bless him.</em></p>
<p>This is not beta read, again, because I am apparently the bravest woman on earth. Who knew!?</p>
<p>Also this is probably actually rated M? I don't know anymore. Talk to me after I have finished writing all of my kinkuary fics and maybe my brain will be working again then.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Percy licks a long path up from Pansy’s calf to her ankle, he realises with the most fierce certainty that this had been inevitable all along.</p>
<p><em>Obsessed</em> is a strong word, he thinks to himself, as he peppers kisses along her heel, across the elegant arch of her small feet. There’s no denying, however, that it was the sound of her steps that grabbed his attention that first time. Well, the first time he’d seen her since she was a small Third Year in green-trimmed robes. </p>
<p>He remembers thinking about the loud and clear cadence of heels <em>that high </em>coming down the corridor. Not something he hears a lot, even at the Ministry. Definitely never at the Burrow. And truth be told, Percy doesn’t go out that often. When he does, it’s just joining the other Ministry folk down at the pub. It’s never the kind of place where shoes that sound like Pansy Parkinson’s make an appearance. </p>
<p>Her tinny moans ring through the small room as Percy, in a true Gryffindor moment of bravery, touches his lips to her toes. </p>
<p>Just the week before, she’d been in his office, still so much shorter than him despite the heeled boots she was wearing, but looking at him as if she was the tallest creature on Earth. </p>
<p>He remembers the exact words. <em>“Well, if it’s easier for you, I’ve got a small studio set up in my apartment. Most Department Heads have been photographed in their offices but I understand you’re very particular about mess and I wouldn’t want to invade your space with all the things necessary for a photoshoot.”</em></p>
<p>There was something about the way she’d said it that made Percy’s heart beat a little faster. He’d agreed without a second thought. </p>
<p>“We can work to your schedule, I’ll have the photographer come in and set up before you arrive so we can jump straight into photographs and interview questions, does that sound okay?” </p>
<p>They’d agreed on eleven on Saturday.</p>
<p>Thirty-ish minutes after the agreed time, Percy has got Pansy Parkinson in only her tiny lace knickers lying on her sofa, panting as he runs his hands down her body with gentle teasing fingers.</p>
<p>Pansy gasps a <em>“fuck” </em>when he opens his mouth and licks her toes.</p>
<p>“You like that, uh?” He asks.</p>
<p>She smiles, then.</p>
<p>“Not as much as you do,” she says, still smiling, and looks down at the obvious tenting in his trousers. Well, she’s probably not wrong.</p>
<p>It had been the sound at first, as Pansy walked around the Ministry day in and day out, followed by a merry little band of photographers and assistants very clearly wrapped around her finger. She’d introduce herself as <em>“Pansy Parkinson, correspondent for Witch Weekly. I am working on a piece about the post-War Ministry Restructure.”</em></p>
<p>It took her a while to get to the Department of Magical Transportation but, by the time she did, Percy knew her introduction by heart. He also knew what many of her shoes sounded and <em>looked</em> like — the tip-tap of the forget-me-not blue block heels with the strap around the ankle, the click-clack of the very high pointy leopard print pumps, the heavy tread of the black dragonhide boots, the pitter-patter of the pink sandals with the ruffles and the skinny heel. He didn’t know what it was, exactly. He’d never been so drawn to the way someone carries themselves, their steps, their feet. But the sound of Pansy Parkinson walking had started getting a Pavlovian response out of Percy.</p>
<p>Percy’s hand runs down Pansy’s other leg, from knee to the edge of her knickers and caresses her through the fabric, relishing in the feel of the lace and <em>the wetness.</em></p>
<p><em>“Salazar, yes,” </em>she says.</p>
<p>Percy knew exactly what was happening when he knocked at her door that morning and found her barefoot in an oversized shirt and shorts. She’d had the decency to look embarrassed for a second when he asked if the photographer had set up already but they’d been all over one another before she had the time to put the kettle on and follow through with the cup of tea she’d offered him.</p>
<p>He almost laughs at the ridiculous situation they’ve managed to put themselves in when she pushes him off the sofa and onto the floor, and runs her foot along the bulge in his trousers before helping him out of them.</p>
<p>Percy fucks her on the grey photography backdrop — there is a small studio set up in her flat, at least <em>that</em> she wasn’t lying about just to get him to come over — with one of her legs wrapped against his hips and the other throw over his shoulder. He mouths at her calf and lets her pull her leg back and drag her foot along his jaw. </p>
<p>At his groan, Pansy says, “You really like that, don’t you?”</p>
<p>There’s no point lying, not that he thinks he could, really. Not when she feels that good squeezing around him. Not when all his brain power is focused on how she feels and how she looks under him.</p>
<p>“Come on,” she says. “Harder,” she demands. “I’ll let you come on my feet, if you’d like,” she adds, with a wicked smile.</p>
<p>Percy thinks <em>“Thank Merlin for Witch Weekly interrupting the Ministry’s workday for weeks on end. A gift basket may be in order.”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for a more hyperactive and extremely chatty version of me, come say hi <a href="https://onbeinganangel.tumblr.com">on tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>